


A Tale of Thonar: The Jarl's Daughter

by Radiant_Phoenix



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventurers, Forsworn, Friendship, Kidnapping, Reachmen - Freeform, Rescue, attempted sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23985409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiant_Phoenix/pseuds/Radiant_Phoenix
Summary: It is a dark and stormy night. Former adventurer Thonar recounts one of his adventures to his gathered grandchildren. The story of the kidnapped daughter of the Jarl of The Reach...





	A Tale of Thonar: The Jarl's Daughter

The storm raged outside the small house in the city of Windhelm. Inside, candles were lit, the fire was stoked, and a group of children sat around the old man sitting in his rocking chair.  
"Will you tell us a story, Grandpa?" one of the gathered youngsters asked.  
The old man pulled out his pipe and tobacco. "You all want to hear a story?" he asked them in his thick, Nordic accent, as he lit it. They squealed and yelled in the affirmative.  
"Tell us the story of when you hunted down that Ice Troll."  
"Or when you and your friends tracked down the group of pirates."  
"No no, tell us when you rescued the Jarl of The Reach's daughter."  
There was a collective intake of breath at that one, then clammoring. "Yeah, yeah, that one!"  
"Ah," the old man said, puffing his pipe. "Rescuing the Jarl's daughter from the Reachmen, who had taken her to be sacrificed to a Hagraven. That is a good story." He reached for the stein of mead on the table next to him, took a long pull, then set it back down. "Very well. It all began on a stormy night, much like this one..."  
\----------  
Thonar sat at the table of the inn, carousing with his cohorts. A traveling musician played a lively tune by the fire, and the entire inn was alive with laughter, cheering, and dancing. Servers bustled between the kitchen and tables, expertly carrying steins of beer and mead, and occasionally spiced wine, as well as balancing plates and bowls, both empty and full of food. He caught the eye of a particularly busty Nord woman moving between the tables, and lifted his stein to her. “Another!” he called, and she nodded, moving about her work. He finished the last of it in a single gulp and set it on the table in front of him.  
“Hey, watch that thing!” the Imperial man sitting next to him yelled.  
“Yeah, be careful,” the Bosmer man on his other side scolded. “How do you expect me to cheat Constantius out of all his money with you slamming the table and knocking the dice? I worked hard to fix this game.”  
Constantius rolled his eyes. “Come now, Galmir, I’ve been watching your hands all evening. Besides, we’re using my dice.”  
“Are you sure about that?” Galmir replied, waggling his eyebrows at him.  
Thonar let out a hearty laugh. “If your dice aren’t weighted enough to withstand drinking at a Nordic inn, you need better dice my friend.” He picked up the three dice on the table, shook them in his cupped hands, and rolled them on the table. They skittered on the tabletop, tumbling and rolling, before coming to a rest, all three showing a single pip on top.  
Galmir made a sign to ward off evil. “Unlucky roll, that. I’d never weigh dice to show Troll Eyes.”  
Constanius chuckled and took a sip of his drink. “Galmir, surely you’re not that superstitious. They’re just dice. There’s nothing supernatural about them.”  
Galmir pointed a finger at the Imperial. “You say that, but I had a cousin who rolled Troll Eyes and just laughed it off. Said it was just dice. A week later, he was killed while hunting. Gored and trampled by a huge white elk.”  
Thonar scoffed. “A white elk? Never heard of such a thing. How do you even know it was white if you weren’t there?”  
“My brother was the one who went to find him. Said there was white fur and giant hoof marks all over the place.”  
Thonar picked up his stein. “Yeah, ok.” He lifted it to his lips, then remembered it was empty. He searched around for the woman who was supposed to be bringing him a refill.  
Amidst the clamor of the inn, Thonar thought he heard the sound of the door being slammed open. Turning to look, he saw an out of breath man standing in the doorway. He dripped water onto the floor, and the rain pelted the ground outside with an unceasing cadence. Briefly, he was outlined by the light of a bolt of lightning, but the thunder was drowned by the raucous crowd.  
“A call to arms!” the man cried out. “A call to arms!” This got everyone’s attention. The bard stopped playing mid note, the room falling silent. “The daughter of the Jarl has been taken! Kidnapped by barbaric Reachmen. A purse of 1,000 Septims to the man who returns her alive. Her captors were seen taking her East, towards Karthspire.” And with that, he left.  
The serving woman finally came around to Thonar with a new stein. “What’s our tab?” he asked the woman as he grabbed the stein and downed its contents.  
“Seven Septims.”  
He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small fistful of coins, setting them on the table. “Whatever’s left is yours.” The woman swept the coins into her hand and pocketed them before going to the next table. “Finish up, boys. Adventure calls.”  
\----------  
The three men left the Silver-Blood In to greet the storm. They hurried to the city gates, flitting between overhangs as much as possible. They exited and made their way to the stables. Shortly after, three mounted figures left down the main road, going South.  
“Why are we going South?” Constantius called out through the downpour.  
“Reachmen have certain patterns, once you’ve hunted enough of them,” Galmir responded. “They like to double back their trails and go a different direction.”  
“And remember that fur trader a few weeks ago?” Thonar asked.  
“Aye,” Constantius called, thinking.  
“Remember how he said trapping was scarcer than it should be this time of year to the South? We’re thinking the Reachmen have holed up in the area and scared the game away or hunted it for themselves.”  
Constantius nodded. “Makes sense. And you two just…knew that without saying anything?”  
Galmir and Thonar looked at each other through the curtain of rain. “Pretty much,” Galmir answered.  
“You forget how long we’ve worked together,” Thonar said. “After a while adventuring, you just sort of get in tune with each other.”  
“Like a married couple, or a master and apprentice,” Galmir chimed.  
Thonar pulled up next to Constantius and patted him on the back. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there.”  
“If you survive.”  
As they continued their journey South, the rain abated to a drizzle, before ceasing altogether. The clouds went with the rain revealing a picturesque sky of stars gleaming overhead.  
Galmir pulled his horse to the side of the road. “We should go on foot from here.” He pointed to broken branches and horse hair caught on the brushes that lined the road. The other two men dismounted, and they all went about the task of hobbling the horses and putting on feeding bags. Once the horses were set, the men checked their gear and set off the road.  
“Is there a reason we’re not breaking for the night?” Constantius asked.  
Thonar pointed to the now clear sky. “Full moon.”  
Galmir nodded. “Reachmen do important rituals on the full moon.”  
“Coupled with kidnapping the Jarls daughter…”  
Constantius nodded. “Not good. Do you really think they’ll…?”  
Galmir nodded. Suddenly, he threw his hand out, stopping his companions. He pointed to a spot on the rabbit trail they were following. A tripwire. Carefully, he traced the wire with his eyes, then pointed to the branches above them. A deadfall log, waiting to drop on unsuspecting heads. Carefully, the three companions stepped over the wire, leaving it intact, lest it also be attached to a signal for wary Reachmen.  
Carefully, the adventurers snuck through the woods, crouched down to reduce their silhouette. At last, the encampment came into view.  
They had approached the camp from the Northeast, and crouched on top of an overlooking cliff. To the south of them was a bridge, crossing the river. To the west, a wooden tower with a single Reachman standing post, watching the bridge. A path led around to the South, then circled upwards and to the North.  
“This used to be an old military outpost,” Thonar whispered to Constantius. “Long since abandoned.”  
“Locals call it ‘Hag Rock’ now,” added Galmir. “On the count of rumors that a Hagraven lives there now.” The wood elf took his bow off his back and strung it, testing the tension, and pulled an arrow from its quiver.  
“They could be telling the truth,” Thonar mused as he checked his great sword and daggers. “Reachmen treat Hagravens like they’re divine.”  
Constantius mimicked the seasoned adventurers and secured his buckler to his arm, then made sure his short sword drew easily from its scabbard. “How sure are we that she’s in there?” he asked, cautious. In that moment, in the silent moon lit evening, a muffled scream was heard over the babbling of the water. “Nevermind.”  
Galmir stood up and drew his bow. Time seemed to slow for him as he drew his breath, took aim, and released the arrow with a twang of bowstring. He could almost see the arrow as it flew, and pierced the Reachman through the throat. He gurgled, then fell with a thud to the wood floor of his outpost.  
Constantius led the way down the rocks, shield up and sword out, Thonar behind with great sword at the ready, and Galmir in the rear, another arrow nocked but not drawn.  
As they made their way through the camp, quietly, making note of potential hiding points, they found that it was mostly empty, no doubt preparing for the sacrifice that was about to be made. They could hear the chanting of voices and see the shadows of the Reachmen atop the cliffs to the Southwest. They were almost there, when they heard a terrible, shrill, shrieking. The three companions looked at each other, thinking the same thing. Hagraven.  
The moon was almost at its zenith now. The muffled cries of the bound and gagged woman were clearly audible to them now. They broke into a run up the last sets of stairs, throwing their notion of arriving undetected out the window.  
They reached the top. The woman was laying on a stone alter, a Hagraven standing over her, dagger in hand. Six Reachmen stood around in a circle, one with the dressings of a Shaman, and another with the telltale swords of a Ravager.  
In the moment before they were spotted, Galmir let loose an arrow, killing the Shaman. As the woman crumpled at the foot of the alter, the enemies all turned. The Hagraven pointed with her dagger, shrieked, and the chaos of battle was upon them.  
The three companions moved completely in sync with one another, almost as if dancing together through the battle. Block, shove, thrust. Deflect, draw back, swing. Draw, aim, release. None got in the way of the other as they one by one felled their foes, blood and viscera spattering the rocks, until all that was left was the Hagraven.  
She shrieked again, drawing her arm back to cast a spell. The three friends scattered in different directions. Constantius and Thonar circled around in opposite directions, coming at her as a pincer, while Galmir jumped and dodged backwards and sideways, peppering her with arrows. The explosion of a missed fireball shattered the moonlit silence as the swordsmen charged from opposite directions. The Hagraven swung wildly, but Constantius caught it on his shield, wood splintering. He shoved back, throwing her off balance. Thonar drew back his great sword and swung it down with all his might, cleaving her head from her shoulders. The corpse fell to the ground, blood spurting from the stump of its neck.  
Constantius, Thonar, and Galmir paused for a moment, catching their breaths. The sobbing of the poor woman on the stone alter, however, brought them back to the moment. Sheathing his great sword, Thonar approached. “Fear not,” he said in as gentle a voice as he could muster as he approached. “They’ve all been taken care of.” He could see as he got closer that the woman was not only bound and gagged, but blindfolded as well. “My name is Thonar. Your father sent us to fetch you. I’m going to untie your gag. Please don’t bite me.” She nodded, terrified, but hopeful.  
Thonar undid the dirty rag tied across her mouth, and she took a shuddering breath. “Thank you so much,” she cried. “Please, please untie me,” she begged.  
“I will, but I’m going to leave your blindfold on for a moment.” She tensed, suddenly scared again. “I just don’t want you to see all the blood and gore, if I can help it.”  
“I don’t care what it looks like.”  
He paused a moment, then proceeded to untie the bindings of her hands, her feet, and finally the blindfold. Thonar gestured to his companions, who were checking that the foes were truly dead. “This is Constantius and Galmir,” he said, gesturing respectively. “We’re going to return you to your father, if that’s alright with you.” She nodded eagerly.  
“Yes, please. Anywhere but here.”  
\----------  
“So, the four of us now, descended from the cliffs, and made our journey back to Markarth. The Jarl, in his gratitude, gifted us each with a weapon from his armory, and a favor to be called on him for anything within his power.” The old man smiled to the assembled children, and nodded with finality, indicating the end of the story.  
The children all clapped and smiled and laughed at the story. “What favor did you ask, Grandpa?”  
“Well child, that’s a story for another time.” There was a collected groan of dismay. “Come on all of you, the storm and the story are over. Time to wash up. Your parents are going to be coming to get you all for dinner any moment now. Go on!” He ushered them all into the washing area, laughing to himself at their childish antics.  
“Telling them the story of how we met?” a feminine voice asked behind him.  
Thonar turned and smiled at his wife. He pulled her into a hug. “That I was, love.” The favor Thonar had asked, all those years ago, was the hand of his daughter in marriage. It was well after the first time they had met, after many more adventures were had by both of them. Thonar had taken an arrow to the knee, and his adventuring days were behind him, but all he could see for the future were him and his beloved. Thonar gave the greying woman a tender kiss on the head. “That I was.”

\----------

End


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